The Memory Trap (16 page)

‘When, Miss Franklin? In relation to Kulik’s arrival in Berlin, I mean.’

‘The same day. But perhaps a few hours afterwards.’ She took the point. ‘But Commander Pitt’s information preceded our information by a full twenty-four hours.’

‘I see.’ At least events had been occurring in the right sequence, both to allow Kulik to get out and (though for reasons unknown) the Arabs to be ready for the Berlin ambush. ‘And this was all to catch Kulik?’

‘No.’ Mary Franklin shifted to Jaggard doubtfully ‘—Henry?’

All the while, Audley had been aware of Henry Jaggard more than anyone else, even though Mary Franklin was infinitely easier on the eye.

Jaggard drew a deep breath, to match his final decision. (Which was, thought Audley cynically, that with General Voyshinski here, and Colonel Zimin
somewhere
, he needed Major Richardson more than ever. So, however unhappily, he also still needed Lieutenant (demobbed/ retired) Audley.) ‘It seems that there were three of them, David: Kulik, Prusakov and Lukianov.’ Having committed himself, he watched Audley like a hawk. ‘Kulik, I gather, you don’t know. But what about the other two?’

Getting so much so quickly posed a pretty problem, in view of both Jake’s information and his loss of face on Capri. So perhaps it would be advisable to compromise. ‘Prusakov … don’t know.’ Prusakov was a dead duck, anyway, according to Jake. ‘But Lukianov … ‘ He frowned, but encouragingly. Names, after all, were supposed to be his stock-in-trade.

‘Leonid S. Lukianov,’ Charlie regarded him hopefully. ‘Come on, David!’

He mustn’t disappoint Charlie, who had supported him in his hour-of-need. ‘Soldier. Originally soldier, anyway—
Spetsnaz
, too. Maybe GRU once, but then KGB. Colonel … but maybe General Lukianov now. Served in Afghanistan … And—‘ He frowned at Jaggard ‘—wasn’t he a friend of Brezhnev’s son-in-law? The one they’ve just sent down the river, Henry?’

But Jaggard was frowning at Jack Butler.

‘That’s very good, Dr Audley,’ said Mary Franklin, with a hint of misplaced admiration. ‘Especially as he isn’t in our records—or yours.’

Ouch
! ‘Isn’t he?’ That would teach him to underrate her! ‘Well … no, I suppose he wouldn’t be, at that.’ He looked into the space above her head for a moment, playing for time. ‘Or … ‘
Lukianov had to be in the records, somewhere
! ‘ … or, are you sure?’ Neville Macready came to his rescue: dear old Neville was safely dead. ‘It was Neville Macready who mentioned him to me, a couple of years back.’ All he had to do was to imagine how Lukianov’s career might have gone downhill since then. ‘I think he’d just been posted out of Moscow to Kabul, or something like that.’ He shrugged at her. ‘But I’m only interested in the coming men, not the ones who backed the wrong horse, Miss Franklin.’ That would do for the time being. So he could return to Jaggard. ‘Where did you get these names, Henry?’ (And at least Charlie looked satisfied.)

Henry Jaggard slid a picture across the table for an answer. ‘Have a look.’

‘Is this him?’ It was irritating that he’d missed Lukianov somehow. ‘Good-looking chap. But I still don’t know him.’

Another picture came across the table.

‘Prusakov?’ Less irritating. But still irritating. ‘Ugly bugger.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t know him either.’ But now curiosity was in order. ‘Where did you get these pictures?’

‘Huh!’ exclaimed Charlie. ‘Where indeed! They’ve been hawked right across Europe, my dear chap—like “Most Wanted” posters, if not pop star pin-ups.’ He twisted a ghost of his usual cheerful grin at Audley. “The Kulik one has now been withdrawn: he’s no longer in the Top Ten … or Top Three, in this instance.’

So the Russians had been so shit-scared of these three defectors that they’d flooded the market, regardless of consequences, only interested in quick results. Just as, in another age and with the aid of better technology, the British would have transmitted mug-shots of Burgess and Maclean, among others, once upon a time.

‘So what else is known about them—?’ He addressed Mary Franklin in order to stop her thinking more about his remarkable special knowledge of General Lukianov. ‘Kulik was a military intelligence computer-man, I gather.’ He made a face at her. ‘According to Sir Jack, anyway.’

‘He was only a technician, Dr Audley.’ She accepted that, anyway. ‘He was perhaps a whizz-kid, technically … we’re not sure, though.’

‘And Prusakov?’ It was Lukianov, the action-man—
Lucky
Lukianov—who really mattered now. But he must be interested in Prusakov first. ‘What was he?’

‘He was also in computers. But he was much higher up, and into politics too.’ But she seemed to be accepting this, also. ‘Only … he wasn’t one of your “coming men” either, Dr Audley.’ She didn’t smile. ‘He was a “going man”.’

‘And now he’s gone,’ murmured Charlie.

And gone in more ways than one, too. But Mary Franklin was watching him, and he had to keep Jake Shapiro under wraps for the time being still. So he pushed the photos back towards Jaggard and looked at Billy Pitt. ‘And you haven’t had a sight of him?’

‘We’re on the look-out for him, as well as Major Richardson. And Lukianov, of course.’ Pitt nodded.

‘And so is everyone else.’ Renshaw also nodded. ‘According to Henry these pictures have been scatterd around like confetti by every KGB station in Europe. So they’ll know we’ve got them by now, David.’

‘Yes.’ Mary Franklin claimed his attention. ‘What I was wondering, Dr Audley, was whether you’d had sight of either Prusakov or Lukianov in Italy. But obviously not.’

‘Why should they be in Italy, Miss Franklin?’ inquired Renshaw. ‘Do you mean … one of them was going to be bait for Richardson, the way Kulik was the bait for David here?’

‘Something like that, Mr Renshaw.’ She still watched Audley. ‘What do you think, Dr Audley?’

‘I think … I’d like to know more about General Lukianov, Miss Franklin.’ He was tempted to smile at her, but decided against it. ‘Then I’ll tell you what I think. For what it’s worth.’

‘Very well.’ She accepted his serious face at face-value. ‘But I’m afraid we don’t know much more than you do. He was a
Spetsnaz
specialist, as you know. And the Americans say he was a European expert originally—they think he made a special study of our own Special Forces, too. But then he may have transferred to the GRU or the KGB, they’re not sure. But after that he did a tour in the Middle East, they believe, in the late 1970s.’

That would be the Israelis feeding the Americans most likely. ‘So he could have had contacts with the terrorist groups? As a trainer, maybe?’

‘It’s possible.’ She was properly cautious of guesses tacked on to nebulous second-hand information. ‘Then he was posted to Afghanistan. And he was with
Spetsnaz
there—that’s certain, Dr Audley.’

Audley nodded. It was certain because the Americans had worked hard on analysing the Soviet Army’s personnel, as well as its performance, in its first hot war since ‘45. But there was something more, he could see. ‘Yes, Miss Franklin—?’

‘There’s a story about him.’ She paused for a moment. ‘He went on a raid into the mountains with one of his units—a unit he’d once served with. They were dropped by helicopter, to block a Mujahadeen escape route. But then the weather closed in, and the main attack was delayed. So they had to hold out for a week, instead of three days. There were only three survivors, all of them wounded. And two of them died afterwards. The youngest one died in his arms, apparently.’

“Lucky” Lukianov, indeed! But also a real front-line general, thought Audley.

‘
Beau Geste
stuff!’ Charlie Renshaw frowned at Jaggard suddenly. ‘And this Lukianov is now a defector, you say, Henry? He doesn’t damn-well sound like one—if that isn’t just a propaganda story, anyway.’ He took the frown to Audley. ‘Eh, David?’

Leonard Aston emitted one of his dry little coughs. ‘Defeat, Charles, does strange things to heroes. Especially humiliating defeat.’

Audley saw Charlie’s eyebrows lift, and realized that his own had also gone up. Coming from little Len, who was as dry as his cough, such an insight was surprising.

‘I have had no first-hand experience, of course.’ Aston touched his lips with his ever-ready handkerchief, aware of their astonishment but quite unembarrassed by it. ‘I am not a military man, and never could be. But … I was in our embassy in Washington during the last days of Vietnam, and for two years afterwards.’ He gazed from Renshaw to Audley and back like a tutor with two rather thick undergraduates. ‘And during that period I observed some very strange behaviour among some senior officers, as well as a predictable disorientation among those beneath them.’ Aston’s voice became more pedantic as he spoke. ‘It was no surprise. For a long time they believed they were invincible … in the knowledge that they had never been defeated, or in any real danger of final defeat … at least, not since 1814. But then, long before the final debacle, the senior officers knew better—knew better that it was a matter of political will, anyway. So then they knew that defeat was inevitable, and all their men had died for nothing.’ He nodded at them. ‘It was more a long corrosion of the spirit. And it happened among some of the very best and bravest of them, who had fought hardest. One or two behaved quite irrationally, even though their actual careers were still assured.’ Now he dropped them both, turning to Henry Jaggard. ‘And, in General Lukianov’s case, I believe you indicated that his career-future is
not
assured, Henry?’ Finally he embraced them all. ‘We need to know a great deal more about him, I would think. Because while he may not have been the moving spirit behind whatever plot the three of them have hatched, he will be the action-man.’ He even managed a thin smile for Mary Franklin. ‘I do not know what the motto of the Russian
Spetsnaz
force is. But for our own SAS it is “Who dares, wins”, I believe? And I would guess that General Lukianov is daring now. So it is up to us to see that he does not also win.’ He settled on Audley himself. ‘Is it possible that, while he was working for you … or, rather, for the late Sir Frederick Clinton … your Major Richardson may have encountered this man Lukianov?’

Butler cleared his throat. ‘We have been through everything in the record, Mr Aston—several times. And there’s nothing to indicate any connection between Richardson and any living Russian, or even any foreign or suspect contact, who isn’t fully accounted for.’

‘Apart from which, he wasn’t with us very long.’ Audley came in without hesitation. Because, when Jack Butler did a job, then it would be well done. ‘And he was only a beginner.’

‘All of which doesn’t mean a thing nevertheless,’ snapped Butler. ‘It’s the man himself we need. Nothing else will do.’

‘But the man himself is missing,’ Renshaw looked at Audley. ‘And you think he’s coming home, David?’

He had to put his mouth where his money was. ‘After Capri—yes, Charlie.’

‘Interpret Capri for us, Dr Audley.’ Aston was also looking at him. They were all looking at him. ‘We know only the bare details, remember.’ The handkerchief came up again. ‘Or, perhaps you may prefer to start in Berlin?’

‘He wasn’t there,’ Jaggard put the boot in again neatly, like a Welsh forward in a loose scrum on his own line. ‘More’s the pity.’

‘Fortunately, rather.’ Aston was hiding that thin smile behind his handkerchief. ‘But Berlin will have concentrated his mind, I would think.’

It was Leonard Aston who was concentrating his mind right now. With a little help from Colonel Zimin and General Voyshinski, among the others
(four others: two down, but two missing
—
and the important two, by God!)

‘Thank you for reminding me, Len.’ He had made a balls-up of Capri. And he had underrated Mr Leonard Aston. So he had to get it right now. ‘There are four sides to this triangle—right, Len?’

Leonard Aston thought about his opening gambit. ‘Creative geometry, would that be?’

‘Us and the Russians.’ Was it possible that Mr Aston was being measured for Mr Jaggard’s job? ‘We both want Lukianov—and Prusakov … or, failing them, Peter Richardson. Because he knows what Lukianov is up to—‘ He had to be quick now ‘—or, if what he knows is added to what I am supposed to know … and what the Russians already know … that’s the jackpot.’

Charlie Renshaw grunted doubtfully. ‘Are you saying the Russians don’t know what he’s up to, David? Lukianov, I mean—?’

He could probably shrug to that. ‘Zimin said he wanted Peter alive. And I don’t think that was just window-dressing, Charlie.’

‘Yes.’ Aston nodded. ‘With Gorbachev down to address the United Nations, and then to visit the Prime Minister … they don’t want any scandals they can’t handle, Mr Renshaw.’ The handkerchief came up again. ‘Remember Khrushchev and the Schwirkmann affair? If they start killing people, or trying to kill them … then
she
will have to react to that, just as Chancellor Erhard had to—remember?’ He sniffed. ‘It’s a finely-balanced thing, I agree. And … I don’t doubt you know better than I do. But, if there’s any sort of scandal, she’ll be able to get much better terms on conventional arms, at the very least. And Gorbachev can’t afford that yet—can he?’

‘It’s all bull-shit—‘ Charlie started to shrug high politics off. But then pretended to be embarrassed ‘—I do beg your pardon, Miss Franklin—again! But … do go on, David: they want Major Richardson alive … because he will know what Lukianov and Co. are—are trading on the open market?’ Then he produced a typically silly-idiot Charlie Renshaw grin to muddy the waters. ‘Well … that’s privatization for you: Lukianov
plc
are the third side
—
is that what you
’
re saying, David? And they
’
re offering shares to International Terrorism
plc
—
in this case on the Arab splinter-groups? Not the Mafia, anyway
—
?
’

The Honourable Charles Renshaw had assimilated those “bare details”—and had quickly eliminated the accident of Peter Richardson’s private life from them, quite rightly: the Mafia was prepared to tangle with anyone in the West, any time. But it wasn’t prepared or willing to fight a war on two fronts when there was no profit in the East, as well as no comforting democratic legal process.